


Noble Aim

by mutanitys (chekov)



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Butlers, M/M, Master & Servant, Nobility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:23:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chekov/pseuds/mutanitys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik finds familiar warmth at home, and joy in his butler's smile. Perhaps his infatuation with a certain Charles Xavier goes beyond professional gratitude.</p><p>Regency!AU in which Erik is a posh nobleman and Charles is a butler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noble Aim

There’s nothing that Erik hates more than trudging through cold rain on a dreary February morning. And the relentless downpour currently pelting the streets and his pathetically unprotected figure is a painful reminder of this hatred.

He hastens his pace when thunder rumbles all around him, jolting him awake from his cold, miserable stupor. Although the courthouse is only a five, perhaps seven-minute walk from his residence on a normal day, Erik has the misfortune of encountering countless muddy puddles that, frankly, he will never get used to no matter how long he spends his life living in a city so inclined to rainy weather. He doesn’t remember the Germany of his childhood being _this_ gloomy. With his brisk walk impeded, it takes him almost twenty minutes to get home — which by then, means he’s thoroughly soaked to the skin.  

He hops inside once the footman opens the doors, any grace or finesse engraved in his upbringing overridden by his eagerness to curl up in front of a blazing fire and forget about the mood-dampening London weather.

“Good evening, Mr. Lehnsherr.“

Well. There’s another reason for his enthusiasm.

Erik rights himself before turning around, cane still in hand. “Evening, Charles.”  

The butler steps out of an adjoining room, hands primly folded behind his back as he bows. Even the feeble lighting fails to mask the glimmer of mirth in Charles’ eyes. “Enjoying the fine weather, Sir?”  

“No need to be smart with me,” grumbles Erik though a warmth not brought about by the absence of rain has crept into his chest. “Spending an evening walk in the midst of a storm is not something I’d do out of my own volition.“

“Never thought it an option, Sir,” Charles says with a small quirk of his mouth, eyes practically submerged in amusement.

Erik has never wanted to kiss the self-satisfied smile off his face more. 

Another footman runs up to Erik, puts his cane away and starts assisting him with his coat until Charles interrupts, “If I may, Sir?“

“It makes no difference. Just help me get these abominable, wet things off,” which is exactly the opposite of the truth because Erik’s skin flares up in heat when Charles’ fingers brush the nape of his neck, rolling down his heavy coat slowly off his shoulders so as not to drench the wooden floorboards. And for some odd reason, Erik thinks Charles knows, knows exactly what he’s doing and why he’s doing it — the content smile on his face is telling enough.  

They’re alone now, the footmen having been sent away. And Charles is in such close proximity that Erik can’t help but notice details — he’s never been one for intricacies — such as how form-fitting Charles’ maroon vest is, and how crisply the white shirt underneath has been starched. Although Erik prefers his hired hands to dress in plain black and white ensembles he never finds any cause to grieve for Charles’ choice of attire. Not when it outlines the strong, but graceful line of his neck so well, and contrasts his pale hands with their deft fingers so beautifully. His glorious brown hair is brushed back neatly, giving way to clear blue eyes that are… _goodness gracious_ , staring right at Erik.

Erik clears his throat, stunned, as Charles removes his top hat while grinning quite conspiratorially. “At a loss for words this evening, I’m afraid?“

“Lethargy, Charles. A trek in this abysmal weather can’t be compared to a walk in the park.” 

“Quite the trouble with coaches? Excess demand, perhaps?“

“That would have been a better scenario than mine — every coach in London seems to have all but retreated to seek shelter when I need them most,” grumbles Erik. “Blasphemy.“

“The streets do tend to be muddy with such violent torrents, Sir, and that would be a less than desirable condition for any coach ride.“

“That is no excuse. It is imperative that we look into investing in a private coach at once.”

“Of course, Sir,” Charles agrees in a velvety voice meant to soothe the most irascible of temperaments. “But perhaps you’d like to change into something less likely to give you a chill, and possibly entertain a cup of tea? I have made certain that your bookshelves are back in order this afternoon.“

Erik’s shoulders visibly slacken, and he utters a small prayer of gratitude for the existence of Charles Xavier. They start to walk towards the foot of the stairs.

“And the —”

“Fire is roaring to go, Sir.”

Erik’s sigh is wistful even to his own ears. “You always know what I need.” 

Charles lets a small laugh escape his lips. “Honoured, Mr. Lehnsherr, to take that as a compliment.“

Erik nods, never one to thank his employees very easily. Or ever. He holds Charles’ gaze a little longer, but all too soon Charles is stepping back and giving him another courteous bow. Desperately, he tries to scramble for something — anything — to rekindle idle chatter.

“Charles?“

“Mr. Lehnsherr?”  

He swallows. “Do not feel obliged to… You may… may call me…”  

“Erik?” The smile on Charles’ face widens, into one that is genuine and pleasant and does a better job at warming Erik up than any fireplace can.

“Yes,” he says faintly, heady from the way his name rolls of Charles’ tongue, and scrambling to simply cross the line — step over his usual boundaries —  

Except he’s spared the torture, because Charles says, “I will join you for some tea after your bath, if you don’t mind Erik.”

Erik is left gaping at the foot of the stairs, watching Charles’ retreating back.

Sometimes he thinks his butler may be somewhat telepathic.

**Author's Note:**

> I occasionally write drabs on mutanitys @ tumblr! Feel free to drop by and talk!
> 
> Also I love this AU so much I'm going to try my hardest to write something else for it.


End file.
